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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342625">Like Wine to the Thirsty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously'>ambiguously</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, Force-Sensitive Chirrut Îmwe, Getting Together, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:41:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chirrut has always known he has a special destiny.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Five Figure Fanwork Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Like Wine to the Thirsty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwen88/gifts">Arwen88</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Holy City was renowned for many things, from its tumultuous disarray of temples and religions all crowding together atop this dusty plateau, to the stories which had gathered from the feet of so many pilgrims visiting over the centuries. NiJedha had become famous for being famous: a strange legacy for such a sacred place. Some visited to say they had visited, and the elders muttered to each other that more of those made the pilgrimage than did true seekers of the Force's truths.</p><p>Chirrut listened to their grumblings about the false pilgrims, and knew he was doing so against their wishes; very few in the Temple understood how good his hearing had become since the accident. They saw a boy with a simple smile and a broom, and they failed to drop their voices past where he could listen in upon their complaints.</p><p>"That's not true," said Baze later that night, his voice a harsh whisper in the small dormitory where the initiates lived together. Tasa nodded in firm, outraged agreement. "Look at all the pilgrims who came today."</p><p>Aisha nudged Chirrut's arm. "What do you think?" </p><p>Chirrut considered the question before he answered. Even though he couldn't see his friends' faces, he knew they turned towards him, waiting. "I think many of them believe they are here to find the truth but they're lying to themselves."</p><p>The other children returned to their conversation. Chirrut half-listened, and spent the rest of his attention wondering what had made him say that. He'd always had a knack for knowing what others felt, often before they did. When Baze was threatening to fall into another one of his grumps, Chirrut distracted him early with a joke or a clever trick. When one of the younger initiates had a bad dream, or hurt themselves, Chirrut was the first at their side. Many Servants of the Whills, Guardians and Disciples alike, had thought for a while he must be hurting the smaller children, but every question turned up the same answer. Elta, the eldest and wisest of the Disciples, had told him, "The Force is one with you," and she'd ruffled his short hair fondly.</p><p>He knew when the weather would change, as sure as any elder with a twinging knee, and he knew when the sirens would blow before they sounded. While he wandered with his broom, well within earshot, some of his teachers said the Force had given Chirrut an extra sense to make up for the vision he'd lost. He was wise enough not to argue with them about that or else they'd be more careful about speaking where he could hear them.</p><p>"You shouldn't eavesdrop," Aisha said, after he'd brought his friends another piece of secret information. "You're going to get caught."</p><p>"No, he isn't," said Baze with smug certainty.</p><p>"I might this time," Chirrut admitted, knowing his best friend's face would turn from self-satisfied to scowling. "The Jedi are coming."</p><p>"Truly?" Tasa asked, her voice loud with excitement. He nodded, enjoying the excited gasps around him. None of them had ever met a Jedi, but soon, several would join them at the Temple for a brief visit.</p><p>The Disciples had taught them much about the Jedi, and all of them had heard stories beyond those. Jedi held the Force sacred, and the Force held them sacred in turn. They could manipulate the living Force and guide it to their wills. They could turn someone's thoughts away with a word, even read the thoughts of others. They moved through the galaxy as peacemakers and ambassadors, teachers and healers, mystics and living saints. And soon, they would be coming to visit the Holy City for their own reasons.</p><p>Sometimes, the stories said, they found children with the Force, and took them to raise as Jedi.</p><p>Chirrut thought about that particular story often over the next several days. All the initiates were excused from their studies to help the Servants clean, polish, and tidy the Temple prior to the arrival of their esteemed guests. Their regular visitors and worshipers were not shooed out, for that was against their way, but quite a few seekers of enlightenment were surprised mid-prayer by the sight of Baze Malbus with a scrub brush in each hand and a determined glare on his face as he attacked the dirt on the benches while Chirrut swept.</p><p>Excitement flowed through the Temple, and out its open doors into the streets. Rumor, traveling on skittish feet like the rodents who made their nests deep inside the thick Temple walls, spread through the Holy City. Jedi were coming, look sharp! His friends brought back sights from the city: tattered banners replaced with fresh, bright colors; other children wearing newer clothing more recently handed down from their older relatives; even the nunas and jedpigs that were constant parts of life at ankle-level throughout the city looked to have been given a good scrub whether they'd wanted one or not.</p><p>When the day arrived, the initiates were back at study, each one hard at work on lessons. The others bent over books. Chirrut and another child who couldn't read shared a datapad which spoke the lessons aloud to them. All initiates were meant to focus on their studies, therefore most of them were catching surreptitious looks while their heads stayed bent down in meek attention. </p><p>Chirrut had learned some time ago he could get away with not bending over as long as he faced away from whatever he was really paying attention to. Much like his broom, the action made him invisible to anyone who wasn't paying close enough attention. He listened to the footsteps of the Jedi as their boots and sandals moved across the floors, which had already attracted a fresh layer of fine grit that crunched under their feet in tiny pops. There were four of them, two humans and two from species he couldn't identify on his own. He knew them instantly, individually, just as he knew everyone in the Temple before they even said hello to him.</p><p>Glia, the smaller child with him who hadn't yet learned to read, nudged him. "Chirrut, come on."</p><p>He bent his head to the pad, and he whispered, "What do they look like?" This was a game he played with everyone. Only Baze and Tasa knew what he was really asking, and what information he was really gathering.</p><p>Glia had bent back to the pad, her finger moving over the words as the automated voice read to them. "Two humans, one man, one woman. A Cerean man. A Kel Dor man. The humans don't look impressed."</p><p>"Would you look impressed at the Temple if you were a Jedi?"</p><p>This made Glia giggle. Chirrut felt the attention of the human man turn towards them. He kept his face looking at the datapad, not really listening to today's readings. Even as the man turned away, Chirrut knew part of his attention stayed on the two of them, even as the elders gave the Jedi the rest of their tour of the Holy Shrine.</p><p>After lessons were over, and none of them any wiser, the initiates were permitted to play in the inner courtyard before the noon meal. Aisha swore she could smell something amazing in the kitchen, though Chirrut's nose said it would be the same meal they usually ate.</p><p>He picked up a ball, one of his favorites, made of an antigrav core and covered with rough sacking that felt good in his hands. He threw it to Baze, who walked off with it to a corner of the courtyard. He waited for Chirrut to join him, then tossed the ball back to him. Chirrut caught it easily, then set down his walking stick near his feet.</p><p>"What did you see?"</p><p>Baze waited for the ball, deep in thought. "Their faces are concerned. This isn't a social visit."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"You know something?"</p><p>He could tease that he knew many things, but even if he couldn't see his best friend roll his eyes, he was well aware of the reaction. "Not yet. But yes, they're worried." They tossed the ball between them absently, giving their hands something to do while both considered.</p><p>Baze said, "A secret mission?" His voice filled with excitement. His favorite books to read were wonderful adventure stories starring brave younglings who saved the day over and over on secret missions very far from this dusty world.</p><p>"It might be a secret mission," Chirrut said, although he didn't think so.</p><p>"Maybe they have to rescue a kidnapped prisoner."</p><p>"Maybe." The ball passed back and forth. Chirrut was aware someone was watching them. "Are they here?"</p><p>"Just entered the courtyard. They're looking at us." Baze was good at stealing glances no one else noticed. His excitement dipped slightly. "They're looking at you." Then he brightened up again. "Maybe you're the captured prisoner! Maybe you're actually a prince from another planet who was brought here by thieves and hidden away in the Temple for safe keeping."</p><p>The wild story made Chirrut smile. They all told one another stories like this, to replace their lost families with tales of mystery and suspense. Tasa had decided she was an extradimensional being whose form in this realm of existence only happened to look like a blue Twi'lek girl whose parents had died when she was two. Baze hadn't been given to the Temple as the youngest child in a family too big to feed everyone; he was a pirate's only son kept here to avoid detection from his father's enemies. Chirrut and Aisha had easier stories to invent: both had been left on the Temple stairs as infants, one wrapped in a blanket, one in a basket six months later. They had learned just enough of the world to know the most likely reason for their lives were romances gone wrong, but a more adventurous past was fun to pretend at during the long days of study and practice.</p><p>"All right, I am a secret prince. What does that make you?"</p><p>"That's easy. I will be the prince's loyal bodyguard." Baze dropped the ball, which made a soft sound as it touched the dirt. He moved away, towards the storage area for the practice weapons. Chirrut heard the clatter of a wooden sword. "Ha!" said Baze.</p><p>The small echo box at Chirrut's waist told him where Baze stood, but Chirrut would know anywhere. In a moment, his walking stick was in his hand. He judged Baze's location and his outstretched arm, demonstrating the thrust of his play sword. Chirrut swung his stick neatly in a tight circle and disarmed him.</p><p>"Some bodyguard."</p><p>Baze laughed with loud, good grace. "I guess I should practice more, Your Highness."</p><p>"See to it," said Chirrut in a false haughty voice like he thought a prince should have, before breaking into giggles.</p><p>After playtime, the initiates lined up to return inside for study. Chirrut felt a hand touch his shoulder. "Chirrut," said Laydo, "please come with me. You are excused from your afternoon lessons."</p><p>Chirrut obediently fell into step behind the young Disciple. He knew his friends had turned to watch him. As he passed Baze, his friend whispered so softly no one else could hear: "Good luck, Your Highness." Chirrut had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.</p><p>He was taken to one of the meditation rooms high in the temple. Windows high above them looked out open to the sky, letting in the sounds of the city and the swift breeze, and the squeaks of the prayer wheels on the walls outside turning over and over in their infinite patience.</p><p>One of their guests waited for him in the room. Laydo bowed to the Jedi, and closed the door behind him as he left.</p><p>"Hello, Chirrut."</p><p>"Hello."</p><p>"My name is Ki-Adi-Mundi. My friends and I have come to visit your temple. Will you sit here with me?"</p><p>Chirrut nodded, adopting the calm meditative pose he liked best as he sat.</p><p>"Do you know why I asked to speak with you?"</p><p>He could play as though he didn't know, or tell a joke. The truth was simpler. "The elders think I have the Force."</p><p>"Everyone has the Force," said the Jedi. "It surrounds all of us, connecting us and binding us. Even the inanimate stones around us resonate with it."</p><p>"The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force, and I fear nothing, because all is as the Force wills it."</p><p>"The Temple of the Kyber taught you that. Do you understand what it means?"</p><p>Again, he knew he could offer a flippant answer, and knew he would not. "Some days, I think I do. Other days, I think I have much more to learn."</p><p>"We all do. The Disciples of the Whills have a deep connection with the Force, more so than most who are not Force Sensitive. Many people drawn here will have a high aptitude for communing with the living Force. They expect initiates to learn how to channel your personal connection into a greater understanding."</p><p>This was nothing he didn't already know, and he didn't reply.</p><p>"But yes, some of the Disciples have told us they believe you might be more gifted with the Force than they first suspected. My friends and I are on a different mission. We didn't come here to look for a Force Sensitive child, but the Force often has a way of changing our plans. I would like to ask you some questions, if you are amenable."</p><p>Chirrut nodded again. The Jedi told him he had a datapad, facing away from Chirrut. Again, Chirrut had to stop himself from laughing. Ki-Adi-Mundi chuckled himself. "I've been told you have been blind for three years. I understand turning the images away from you is pointless, but it is part of the test."</p><p>"A Jedi test?"</p><p>"You may think of it that way. What am I looking at? Tell me when you know."</p><p>Chirrut listened with his other senses, and said the first words that came into his mind: a stone, a flower, a ship, a crystal. Dozens of images popped into his mind. Part of him was delighted. The children told themselves stories of who they really were, and all of them had spent time daydreaming of being Jedi. The other part of him recoiled even as he obediently listed off the images. Leave the temple in NiJedha? Leave Jedha itself? Leave his best friend?</p><p>"Thank you," said the Jedi. Chirrut heard the click of the datapad as he set it on the floor between them.</p><p>"I knew most of them."</p><p>"Yes, you did. With others, I can see where your confusion was. Do you have many memories of the time before you lost your vision?" Chirrut knew the Jedi was looking at his echo box. He'd almost stopped noticing its sounds, incorporating the location information like he was breathing. Under the gaze he could almost feel, he was aware of the soft clicks again, and aware how having the echo box set him apart from the others here.</p><p>"I remember what my friends look like. I remember the colors of the light slanting into the temple from the prayer windows." Midday into late afternoon was everyone's favorite time to linger in the cascading light. Chirrut enjoyed the warmth, and spent his days recalling the vibrant blues and hot crimsons and emerald greens.</p><p>"The Disciples we spoke with believe you tapped into a deeper connection with the Force due to your injury. They think your loss gave you the gift to use the Force. What do you think?" His question was kind.</p><p>Chirrut paused to consider. "That isn't how it works. Either you are born with the gift, or you're not."</p><p>"That is our understanding as well. For what it may be worth, I believe you were likely born with this gift, but it was never unlocked within you. The potential to unlock it fades over time. This is the fate of many people. They grow up, live their entire lives, and die without ever knowing they had that potential. The Force often gives them help in small ways, but few ever understand what's happened, or why. There are some exceptions, some extraordinary people whose power remains dormant but ready well into their adulthood, and these can learn to use their powers long past when that opportunity is typically lost."</p><p>"I know things. I can do things."</p><p>"Yes. You found a need to use your own potential."</p><p>Chirrut listened to what he said, and what he didn't say. "I'm not going to be a Jedi."</p><p>"Had we found you when you were much younger, we would have offered to bring you back to Coruscant to train you in the use of your powers. You may have developed your gifts further, or time may have proven that the abilities you have now are at the limit of your potential. There is a wide range in ability among the younglings at the Jedi Temple. Some learn to use their powers for great purpose, while others find that their gifts are limited to a sensitivity to the Force. It takes years of training, discipline, and focus to learn."</p><p>"I'm too old to learn to use my gifts?" He stumbled over the word.</p><p>"No. You are too old to be taken from your home. There are people in your life you care for. How would you feel if you left them behind, never to see them again?" Chirrut didn't reply, and he knew his face wasn't hiding away his reaction. "A Jedi lets go of affection for individuals, and instead loves the galaxy as a whole. Continuing your relationships with your family would complicate that."</p><p>"I don't have a family. I was a foundling."</p><p>"Raised in the temple. The Disciples suggested this might be a special circumstance because you were brought up here. When you and I were working on the test, your expression was sad. You were thinking about something."</p><p>"I was thinking if I became a Jedi, I'd have to leave behind my best friend."</p><p>"You would, yes, and never speak to him again. The Disciples told us about that, as well." The Jedi shifted as he sat. "If I were to offer you the chance to return with us and study to become a Jedi, what is the first word that comes to you in reply?"</p><p>Without allowing himself to think, Chirrut said, "No."</p><p>He felt the Jedi move again, and was aware that had been another test, one that had no correct answer, and he understood that he had passed.</p><p>"Chirrut, the Force is with you. It will guide you throughout your life, and I can tell you, the people who have the gift and don't become Jedi always seem to lead very interesting lives. I wish you the best possible life."</p><p>He wasn't going away with them. He wasn't going to be a Jedi. He ought to be disappointed, but found instead he was relieved. "Thank you."</p><p>After, he made his way down to the floor of the temple where he spent most of his days. Excused from his lessons and his chores, he returned to the initiate dormitory and sat on his bed, thinking. Going off to be a Jedi had sounded exciting, although the "discipline and focus" parts had sounded very much like his life in the Temple of the Kyber. Handling a lightsaber rather than a broom held some appeal. Leaving his friends did not. The Jedi Master had been correct.</p><p>Chirrut's fingers found a pair of stones he kept at his own bedside, one smooth and narrow with a hole worn through, the other round and slick as glass under his touch. He passed them each from hand to hand, picturing himself with a glowing laser sword in his hands instead, righting wrongs and keeping peace through the galaxy. It was a nice image, better than finding out he was some secret, dull prince, and as much a fantasy. Had they found him earlier, he could have lived that life, but it had not been the will of the Force for him to be found by the Jedi. The Force had brought him here instead.</p><p>The stones moved back and forth. From the other parts of the Temple, he heard the ever-present hush of people, some at prayer, most at work, and the children at their studies. "I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me." All was as the Force willed it. He had nothing to fear.</p><p>Baze had fear. The moment the others came in from their studies, he felt terror radiating from his best friend. Baze asked him sharply, "When are you leaving?"</p><p>Chirrut placed his stones back where he could find them when he wanted them. "They were looking for a Jedi. I'm not a Jedi." The words tasted sad in his mouth. He smiled around them. "Fortunately for us all. If they handed me a lightsaber, I'd cut off my own nose."</p><p>"You would not."</p><p>"Then I would cut off someone else's nose by accident."</p><p>"Also not true. You're better with staff practice than anyone else in our class." Baze's gift was his stubbornness. Their teachers all said so, although Chirrut had heard them quietly agree that he may as well treat it as a gift since he was never letting go of the trait.</p><p>"I'm not leaving. I am staying here."</p><p>"Why? Everyone knows you have those magic powers."</p><p>Chirrut shook his head. "I don't. I'm just very lucky, as I've told you many times."</p><p>"Hah," said Baze, but his worries were mollified, and he laughed more easily as their conversation turned to other things. Later, much later, after the lights were out, and Aisha was snoring, and Tasa had buried her head under her blankets, Baze whispered, "I'm glad you're not leaving."</p><p>Chirrut was almost asleep, but the words woke him. He reached out between their beds and grabbed Baze's hand. "So am I."</p>
<hr/><p>His friends all took their final examinations at the same time, despite the variations in their ages. Their teachers believed keeping students in a cohort of like ability was better for their social development than splitting them via arbitrary ages. Chirrut studied the teachings with his datapads whispering in his ears for hours, and he practiced the movements of each kata even though his body already knew them as well as breathing.</p><p>"The Force will guide you to choose your path," said the Disciple Killi Gimm. She was one of Chirrut's favorite teachers. The Force surrounded her like a warm blanket, making him feel safe and loved when he stood in her presence. He believed her, and believed in the Force, and still he had observed that the Force seemed to choose the paths the elders thought best for each initiate.</p><p>The elders had been watching Chirrut since he was small. They had noted his affinity with the Force, and the devotion of his faith. Through them, the Force had already been encouraging him to choose the path of the Disciples, to walk in the holiness they lived, bringing light and kindness to those he met, via words of solace and the food the Temple shared with the hungry. The Jedi had been interested in him, which only made their certainty stronger this should be his path.</p><p>The elders had also been watching Baze this full time. They had noted his large body, and strong arms, and ease with the Lightbow and the staff. They believed, and the Force would support them, that Baze should choose the path of the Guardians, to protect the Disciples, and the Temple, and the weak, and the helpless, and the small.</p><p>"I've decided," Baze told him in the night, hardly disturbing the air between their small beds in the dormitory. Aisha had told them her choice yesterday: she would leave the Temple and go out to live among the stars. They would celebrate her departure in three days, the same as when the rest of them stepped into their own new lives.</p><p>For a moment, Chirrut felt sorrowful fingers brush over his heart. Baze was going to leave. He would hug them when Aisha did, and they would go out into the Holy City, returning only as pilgrims in the years to come. The vision vanished at once, and he felt ashamed. It was untrue, born only of childish fears.</p><p>"I'm going to be a Guardian." Baze sounded triumphant, as though he had made a great decision that hadn't been prodded by his teachers for months.</p><p>Chirrut rested in his own bed. "You shouldn't. You have the greatest faith of anyone I've ever met. Even the Jedi didn't believe in the Force as deeply as you do. You should be a Disciple."</p><p>Baze snorted. "I'd rather put my lessons into practice. You can go chant. I'll be beside you with my Lightbow, guarding you."</p><p>"I'm better with the Lightbow than you are."</p><p>Baze went to argue, then the movement in his bed sounded like a shrug. "Maybe."</p><p>Thoughts about the decision followed Chirrut into his dreams and out again. His friends asked him what it was like for him to dream, but he never understood the question. His mind turned over stories and images just as theirs did, sometimes reminding him of odd details of his days, sometimes pressing him that he needed to find a refresher, sometimes unlocking a puzzle as he slept.</p><p>They called him the next day to give them the choice the Force had guided him towards. "Chirrut Îmwe," said Tornas Pols, the eldest of the Disciples. "It is time to declare your path."</p><p>Chirrut bowed his head, acknowledging the elders who had gathered. "I have communed with the Force in my heart," he replied. "I choose the path of Guardian."</p><p>He heard the stirring among them, never so undignified as to be a mutter. Pols said, "Are you certain of this choice?"</p><p>"I am."</p><p>Another Disciple moved closer to Pols. Chirrut couldn't hear all of what he whispered, but the word "Jedi" was clear. Pols said, louder so that the rest could hear, "Chirrut has made his choice."</p><p>The eldest Guardian, Las Taybit, came forward and clasped Chirrut's arm. She said, "We are glad to have you."</p><p>He made his way from the room, allowing his friends to announce their own decisions, and waited as they emerged one by one. Tasa came in quiet contemplation. She would be a Disciple. Baze emerged in a fury. "What game are you playing?"</p><p>"No games. The Force has guided me to be a Guardian."</p><p>Baze pushed him. "No, the Force wants you to be a Disciple. Everyone knows that."</p><p>"Not me." Chirrut had long ago perfected a calm, sweet tone of voice he knew irritated his best friend more than anything.</p><p>To his surprise, Tasa pushed him from the other side. "You should have told us."</p><p>"I didn't make up my mind until I walked into the room."</p><p>"Ha," she said, and pushed him again with a good-natured amusement before she went to greet the next Initiate.</p><p>He could feel Baze's surly irritation, and said, "I <i>am</i> better at the Lightbow than you are."</p><p>"I know. But you were supposed to be a Disciple, and I was supposed to be a Guardian, and together, we were supposed to bring balance, and you ruined it." The Temple might have taught inner peace. Baze had never been very good at peace, and today he was much worse, storming away before he could congratulate anyone else. Even as the others emerged, the rumor had already spread, and everyone asked Chirrut if he'd lost his mind.</p><p>They were still initiates for the moment. In two days, they would be invested into their new roles, and those who chose to walk away would be offered embraces and best wishes. Some Orders influenced their young students to stay, regardless of what was best for the student or the Order. Others refused to allow their young wards to join as adults at all, seeing the relationship as being too close for the children to make an independent choice. The Temple of the Kyber walked the path in the middle. Initiates could stay, or leave, and others could join, or not. The Force would guide the correct decision.</p><p>Chirrut knew the Force was guiding him in his own.</p><p>Baze didn't return to the dormitory that night. This was typical. Many of the newly graduated initiates took the two days of freedom as a means to explore the less holy charms of the Holy City. Baze Malbus wasn't the type to lose himself in drink or in flesh, but he might be pleased to get some fresh air outside for a day before he dedicated the rest of his life to the Temple.</p><p>Chirrut considered this. Some of his other friends slipped out in the night. Since he'd lost his vision, the only difference between midnight and noon was whether or not he was tired. Tonight he was wide awake, and made his silent way out through the same doors his friends had used in their own furtive escapes.</p><p>It occurred to him that their teachers had all been young once. They knew. And they did not stop them.</p><p>Baze was at the second location Chirrut tried. The city mesa overlooked the high desert, and they'd come here on trips with the elders. Baze sat in a small alcove in the cliff side. Chirrut knew precisely where he'd be, and set down his walking stick before he climbed down gingerly to sit next to him.</p><p>"You shouldn't do that," said Baze. "You'll fall."</p><p>"I will not."</p><p>This was greeted by a soft, disbelieving grunt. Baze returned to his silent contemplation of the desert. Chirrut reached for his hand, and found it, and clasped their fingers together. Baze didn't resist.</p><p>"I'm sorry for ruining your plan. I'm sorry for stealing your day."</p><p>"Not my day."</p><p>"It would have been. Everyone knows you will make a fine, brave Guardian, even though I still think you should be a Disciple. They would have patted your back and congratulated you, and instead, they're talking about me. That's my fault. It hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry for that."</p><p>There was no reply for a long time. Baze didn't pull his hand away, though. Chirrut squeezed.</p><p>"Everyone thinks you're holy. They think you're a Jedi. They want you to be a Disciple, and help lead."</p><p>Chirrut bowed his head, thinking. "I'm not holy. You've known me since we were small. You know me better than anyone."</p><p>"Yes. When you lost your sight and still could do everything you used to, they said that was a sign the Force had blessed you. But it's not. It's because you're a Jedi."</p><p>"I'm not a Jedi. They tested me, remember?"</p><p>"And you passed, remember? They didn't take you because you were too old, not because you weren't one of them."</p><p>"By the time they found me, I wasn't one of them. I told them I wanted to stay here. The people I love are here. Jedi aren't supposed to have people they love, so I can't be a Jedi. Besides," he said with a teasing note, "if I had a lightsaber, I would cut off my own nose."</p><p>Baze let out an annoyed moan. "That joke wasn't funny the first ten times you told it."</p><p>"It's a bit funny."</p><p>"I don't know why I put up with you." He moaned again. "I'm going to have to put up with you every day. We'll be training together as Guardians. I will never be free of you." He still hadn't pulled away his hand.</p><p>"No, I'm afraid you're stuck with me forever. Fortunately, you love me."</p><p>Baze grunted. "I wouldn't say 'fortunately.'"</p><p>Chirrut laughed, and his laugh echoed down the side of the mesa, frightening the birds in their nests below.</p>
<hr/><p>A Guardian was expected to be as adept in the studies of the Whills as in the arts of combat and defense. Even as the Initiates who'd chosen that path were welcomed into the company of the older Guardians, they were tasked with continuing their studies of the lore.</p><p>"I thought my studying was finished," Baze muttered to him as they sat across from each other at a table, Baze reading from his datapad, Chirrut listening to his own.</p><p>"Studying never ends. Only the tests change."</p><p>Baze threw his stylus at Chirrut's head. Chirrut caught it and placed it at a jaunty angle behind his own ear, enjoying the annoyed sound his friend made.</p><p>"All right," he said. "Does it make you feel better to know Tasa was up at dawn practicing zama-shiwo with me?"</p><p>"Why were you up at dawn with Tasa?"</p><p>"I'm always up at dawn." He said this with a mild reproach. He and Baze still shared a room, now in the wing of the Temple where the Guardians lived. Baze tended to sleep in until the sun was in the sky. Chirrut couldn't stay in his bed that long. He'd always been a restless sleeper, and his sleep patterns had been disrupted further after he'd been blinded. Daybreak was an old friend for him. For Baze, it was a distant acquaintance, and thus he'd never noticed Chirrut awake in the dark hours before sunrise, playing with his fidgeting stones, or listening to the sounds from outside the walls, or merely enjoying the time set apart from all responsibilities when he had the luxury to sit and think.</p><p>Baze stabbed at his datapad with an annoyed finger, rattling it against the table. "I already know all this. I can recite every poem and prayer we've studied since we were children. And so can you. We should be learning how to craft our own Lightbows, not rereading Kozem Pel."</p><p>"We'll do that soon enough. Be glad we're not living four hundred years ago. The Guardians then had to wrap themselves in a single thin layer of linen and go sit and meditate in the desert for a month with no food or water except what fell from the sky before they were allowed to begin work on their first practice bows."</p><p>"You're making that up."</p><p>"I'm not. I read it in a history once. The practice was designed to strengthen your connection with the Force by loosening your connections with everything else."</p><p>Baze peered over to Chirrut's datapad, leaning into him with a soft whiff. They had worn the same handed-down robes and clothes, and bathed in the same waters, and eaten the same meals for as long as Chirrut could remember, but Baze carried with him a scent that was entirely his own, distinct from the world around them. "Why don't I ever see these histories you say you read," he said, thumbing through Chirrut's lessons without asking.</p><p>"They're in the library. I could show you."</p><p>Baze made a noise, which either meant he thought Chirrut was bluffing but didn't want to say so in case he was wrong, or that he had no intention of going into the library unless he had to. A near-miss with a shelf when he was five had placed a permanent wariness in Baze's attitude toward that section of the Temple. Chirrut liked it there. Many of the books were on flimsi, even parchment, and remained as empty to him as a bowl, but passing his hands over the pages gave him comfort. Here was the wisdom of the ages, collected by great thinkers and discerning archivists, given to their generation for a time and there to be passed on to initiates who wouldn't be born for centuries. Chirrut felt the years rushing through the bindings, leaving a part of their immortality inside him even as he set them aside and made his way to the stored datapads with audio settings.</p><p>"We should go tonight," he told Baze, taking back his current 'pad and returning it to where he'd left off. "Unless you're frightened."</p><p>"Teasing me doesn't convince me, Chirrut."</p><p>"I never thought it would. I merely said you could join me in the library if you weren't too afraid, and if you are, then we won't go."</p><p>Baze made a louder noise. Chirrut bit the inside of his own cheek to stop from smiling.</p><p>They waited until well after the other Guardians had retired to their beds. Of course Chirrut could have suggested this trip during the day and no one would have batted an eye at the two of them browsing in the stacks, but his own sense of mischief goaded him into a midnight visit instead. Neither of them had ever gotten into much trouble as children. One of the rarer volumes Chirrut had found suggested finding a touch of trouble now and then was good for one's serenity later when one thought back on one's rapscallion misdeeds. Chirrut had to find another book to help him determine what "rapscallion" meant, and he decided he enjoyed the sound of the word once he found out.</p><p>Baze used the dim pools of light from the high windows to guide himself. Chirrut knew his way without them, despite having left his echo box back in their room to avoid even that small sound in the hallways.</p><p>The library was never locked. A true rapscallion would have come across a barred door and used some kind of electronic or mechanical lockpick, but the Temple of the Kyber trusted its own. They assumed if someone wanted to enter the library in the middle of the night, they probably had a good reason. The hinges swung easily as they entered the cool, safe, enormous room.</p><p>Baze said, "I don't like it."</p><p>Chirrut took his hand. "I'll protect you. Come on." He tugged his friend through the paths he knew, past shelves of leather-bound lore whose presence felt like other old friends. They paused in the section of fictional stories, Chirrut pointing out a few of his favorites. "This one is nice," he said, feeling the blips on the edge of the datapad telling him this was the one about the princess and the pilot, where the two women foiled a plot against the Republic and fell in love in the course of one long story.</p><p>"We have enough reading to do."</p><p>Chirrut didn't try to convince him. Baze could pore through their texts faster than he could, since he could read to himself much more quickly than the speakers could read aloud to Chirrut. He knew Baze absorbed the teachings, could discuss them as well as any Disciple, and believed them with all his heart. But ever since they'd become adults, he no longer wanted to waste his time, as he said it, on stories that weren't true, not even the adventures he'd once devoured as a boy. Chirrut had developed more of a taste for the made-up stories as they'd grown. Stories taught him what people thought they wanted to believe was true, such as every problem having an easy solution if you just looked hard enough for one, or that falling in love with someone was enough to overcome having two lifetimes of different experiences, value systems, and expectations of the future. Stories guided him into understanding of how people thought, which was a most useful piece of information to have in his possession.</p><p>They made their way into the histories section. Chirrut knew where he was going, but drew two fingers along the shelves, feeling for the ridges that marked each section. Even Baze was spooked sometimes when Chirrut made his way around too well. He didn't want to frighten him more.</p><p>"This one." He opened it and activated the speaker, turned to its lowest setting. The datapad began to read aloud until Chirrut flipped through to the part he wanted to show Baze about the old Guardians. They stood in the library, listening to the dry old tale read in a pleasant droid voice. When the section finished, he shut it off.</p><p>Baze harrumphed. "They should still let us make our bows sooner."</p><p>"I agree. Tomorrow night, we can sneak into the workshop and start."</p><p>"I am not sneaking out with you again tomorrow night. Bad enough you talked me into this place."</p><p>"It's not so bad in here." He set the datapad back where he'd found it. "The quiet is good for meditating, and there's so much for us to learn."</p><p>"It's dark and it smells of old bones."</p><p>Chirrut paused, letting his noise wake up. Aside from the warm scent of Baze, he could breathe in the smells of the library. Some of the oldest paper was mouldering, in a losing fight between entropy and the librarians. The volumes bound with leather rather than sturdier plasticels went to rot very, very slowly in the dry climate, but now that he was looking for the odor, he caught what Baze had meant. "A little. I wish you'd find more to like in here. The library is one of my favorite places in the whole Temple. We could study here together."</p><p>"I don't want to study here."</p><p>Maybe it was the late hour, or the press of the history surrounding them, or maybe it was just Chirrut's own quirky sense of humor leading him again. He didn't let himself overthink his reasons as he wrapped one hand around his best friend's neck, pulled him close, and placed a solid kiss against his lips. He'd thought about this now and then, never letting his own thoughts get too far. He hadn't expected this enjoyable warmth to flood his limbs at the touch. Fascinating. The initiates had been taught early about sex and courtship and the needs of the body, but Chirrut had considered those abstract lessons unrelated to the far more important study of the Force.</p><p>Baze drew in a harsh breath as Chirrut let go. "What are you doing?"</p><p>"It seemed like the best course of action."</p><p>"How? How was that the best course of anyone's action?"</p><p>Chirrut felt Baze's unhappiness, and deflated a bit. "I apologize. I thought that might give you a better memory of the library."</p><p>"I don't like the library, Chirrut. It is dark and strange in here. I do not want to kiss you in dark, strange places that smell of rotting parchment."</p><p>"That is a fair complaint. Our room is nicer, and you aren't afraid of it."</p><p>"I'm not afraid of the library. But yes, our room is fine. You can kiss me there." With that said, Baze turned and stomped away through the stacks. Chirrut paused for a moment, carefully tracing back the words he thought he'd just said. Then he followed, an amused and anticipatory smile growing on his face.</p>
<hr/><p>Baze's Lightbow was admired by their teachers and their peers as a work of art. Chirrut liked to run his hand over the curve, feeling the power humming inside. Baze teased him, when no one else could hear, that Chirrut was using the Lightbow shaft as a replacement for something else he liked to touch, and the joke always made Chirrut's cheeks warm. He wasn't sure if Baze ever blushed. He assumed so. Some questions were best left unasked, when better questions were there to be asked, such as, "What did you answer for the first question in today's lesson?" or "Can you move a little to the left?"</p><p>What they were doing wasn't forbidden. The Servants of the Whills were discouraged from forming romantic relationships, but there were no rules. People did as people would, and outright denying such a basic need that cut across species would lead only to those rules being broken at every turn. It was far less frowned on to keep such attachments within the Temple. There were couples and moresomes among their number, and had been for years. But it felt new, as though no one had ever done these things before the pair of them discovered them together. Warm entanglements, and soft touches, and the deepening of the bond that had gummed them together since both were too small to remember, these appeared like fresh new wonders.</p><p>"Mind your studies," said Killi Gimm, noticing Chirrut's distraction. "A Guardian must always be aware of the present."</p><p>"While a Disciple looks ahead to the future," he responded with his usual light sarcasm.</p><p>She wouldn't be shaken. "Oh? Should I tell the elders the news you've changed your mind about your path, young Guardian who thinks to lecture me?" He could hear her humor inside her words and knew she meant no ire.</p><p>"I will pay attention," he said, to end the argument. After a moment he asked, "How did you know?"</p><p>"You are always full of smiles, Chirrut Îmwe. The one you are wearing now has been worn by any number of young men I've known over the years. It's not hard to guess what you're thinking about. But your attention should be here. You haven't built your Lightbow yet?"</p><p>He shook his head. "It's taking me longer than I hoped. The design is simple enough."</p><p>"But you cannot see the parts as you construct them, and you don't intend to ask for help." Killi must have spoken with his other teachers.</p><p>"It's part of my training to build my own."</p><p>"No one would think less of you for asking."</p><p>"I would."</p><p>She made a noise. "We all help one another. We say the prayers, and clean the floors, and cook the meals, and feed the hungry pilgrims who come to our door, and raise the orphans left there. The only way we survive is by working together and taking care of one another."</p><p>"I understand. But I am going to make my own Lightbow, even if it takes me a while to complete. I can't be a Guardian if I don't."</p><p>He felt the thoughtful weight of her stare on him. "Then I suppose you will simply have to take the time you need. I suggest it might go faster if you don't spend the extra time daydreaming about Baze Malbus."</p><p>He felt the smile move across his face again, the one she recognized, and he heard her understanding chuckle.</p><p>His Lightbow took another month. It was smooth under his hands, and graceful in them. Not a work of art like Baze's, but a simple, powerful weapon of his own. "Not bad," said Baze when he'd finished. "We should go practice. I wouldn't want you to shoot off your own nose."</p><p>"I will wager that I shoot better than you out of ten shots." It was a useless wager. Baze had been practicing for weeks on his own. Baze knew that too.</p><p>"What's the wager?" Chirrut told him with a grin, and Baze laughed. "So either way, we both win?"</p><p>"My thoughts exactly."</p>
<hr/><p>The duties of a Guardian were often well outside the Temple's walls. The Disciples went forth to minister to the poor, and the weak. The Guardians traveled with them, tramping through the same dust, bending to lift the same children or assist their parents in affixing a door to their rundown homes. The work of the hands was as important as the work of the spirit, and kept more bellies full, and the Force moved through their works.</p><p>Chirrut felt the Force sometimes, moving like a whisper between bodies. What powers he might have once possessed had simplified into a heightened awareness of all beings around him, like an echo box for souls.</p><p>One day, he felt it, like a wave of sick sorrow passing through him. Rarely ill himself, he staggered in pain in a sudden sweep. Baze was at his side, always, and helped him to a seat, worried over him while trying not to worry. "What is it?"</p><p>Chirrut had no words for this, only shaking his head. "Darkness. Death." Cold gripped him for hours. The Temple's infirmary had a single medical droid, but it found nothing wrong with him. Only after, when the news finally reached them, did he understand. The Republic had fallen, replaced with a walking corpse of itself called an Empire, and to anoint this the unholy birth had been the sacrifice of every last Jedi.</p><p>"We can protect you," Baze said, after he told Chirrut the news. "If they come here for you, we'll fight them."</p><p>"They're not interested in me." He knew this without asking. "But there are others they will be hunting. Children. Refugees. If they come to us, we must protect them."</p><p>"We will."</p>
<hr/><p>Chirrut didn't know how to use the Force to find others with it. As far as he knew, none ever came to the Temple of the Kyber for sanctuary. The Empire did come, eight years later. First, they came with requests that were clearly demands. The worship of the Force was frowned upon in the new Empire, but they were willing to allow the Temple to continue in exchange for access to all their kyber. The elders counter offered with a small amount of access, which the Imperials accepted.</p><p>The demands grew. All of them knew where this would end. Chirrut didn't know when the final blow would strike. He and Baze were out in the city helping to repair a school when the end came. The Empire returned with guns and stormtroopers, and they forced the Servants of the Whills out of their own Temple. Those who fought back were shot, and only some with stun blasts. By the time the two of them made it back, the fighting was finished, and they had no home to return to.</p><p>"Tell me what you see," he said to Baze.</p><p>"Sacrilege." He could feel Baze's muscles roll under his robes. "Death. They will pay."</p><p>"How big is their army?"</p><p>He growled. "Not big enough."</p><p>"How big?"</p><p>He slowly felt the fight go out of Baze. "We should have been here. We should have been guarding the Temple."</p><p>"We can guard it from outside." But the stormtroopers had orders regarding upstart Guardians who spent too much time loitering outside the Temple walls. Chirrut felt the situation deteriorate as Guardians shouted at the armed troops, Baze's voice loudest among them before he tugged his friend away to talk.</p><p>"Enough. We need to go. The Disciples will need us at their side now wherever they make their new home."</p><p>Baze turned on him. "We can't leave! The Temple is holy ground!"</p><p>"The city is holy. The people who need us here are holy. The Temple is a building." His heart ached to say the words, but not as much as it would ache to lose his closest friend in a useless fight. "Come." he held out his hand, which he knew was a cheap play. He hadn't needed someone holding his hand for decades.</p><p>Baze took it, and together, they walked away from the only home either had ever known.</p>
<hr/><p>Chirrut prayed to the Force for the Empire to take the things they wanted from Jedha and leave them in peace. The Force responded by sending more Imperials. Some few fought back, and swiftly died for their efforts. Most of the population kept their heads down and did the same as Chirrut, going about their days and praying for better days to come.</p><p>The Servants of the Whills were without their home. Many took residence within the Holy Quarter of the city, packing in tightly in rooms too small for so many. Baze and Chirrut found themselves rooming with Tasa again after years in separate quarters, curling up like tookas in a basket. As they went about their tasks in the city, rumors flitted to his ears about the living arrangements. There had always been lascivious, tittering rumors about the various religious organizations, although he happened to know the one about the Waiting of Night was entirely true. Now they said the Disciples and Guardians were showing their true nature with pulsing orgies in their new cramped quarters. Chirrut, who was having significantly less sex now that he shared a room with eleven people instead of one, found this unfair.</p><p>He and Baze managed to steal away for pieces of time alone, but this time was spent out in the streets, and not so much alone as unnoticed, and only unnoticed when they aimed to blend in. Their robes marked them as members of one of the religious orders. Baze was almost as tall as a Wookiee and stood out in every crowd. Even when they were working at their tasks, helping someone repair a market stall, or sitting with a group of children and helping teach them their letters, the occupation forces harried them.</p><p>Random checks had become the norm. "Show me your scandocs," would come in a sudden, rough voice, and of course someone wouldn't have them ready, or had left them at home, and these people were pushed and abused by the stormtroopers, or taken into custody.</p><p>"You don't need our papers," Chirrut told a gruff-sounding 'trooper. Everybody had heard about the Jedi mind trick. He'd never tried it before, and received the butt of a blaster rifle to his face for trying. He ducked, naturally, which only angered the 'trooper more, and by then Baze had moved into the fracas. They'd left their Lightbows back in the little rented room, but a Guardian trained in zama-shiwo didn't need a weapon against three stormtroopers.</p><p>Two Guardians against the other ten who showed up, and all of them standing among children who might have been hurt or killed in a fight? That was another story. They surrendered. He didn't have to see the dark expression on Baze's face to know it was there.</p><p>"Move," said the stormtrooper with a pauldron on his shoulder that bumped against Chirrut. Chirrut let himself stumble. Baze caught onto the ruse instantly.</p><p>"He's blind. He needs his cane."</p><p>"He should have thought of that before," said the stormtrooper. His staff remained behind them. Chirrut took the opportunity to drag his feet and bump awkwardly into his captors. The echo box gave him their locations, and now he knew their relative sizes and strengths. If he needed to fight them all, he'd know them anywhere.</p><p>"Not today," Baze said. "Listen." Chirrut turned to listen, and heard what Baze saw: more 'troopers at a distance, the creak of their plastoid armor almost silent under the effervescent buzz of the city sounds around them. Too many to fight for now.</p><p>They were taken to a holding station and shoved into a cell before their captors were called away again on a disturbance in another part of the city. Baze said, "Next time, I'll crack their skulls."</p><p>"Next time, we'll have our scandocs with us." Chirrut listened to the holding station noises. The stormtroopers were long gone. A single guard remained outside the building. This was old construction, taken over from the local law enforcement that the Empire had supplanted and evicted, just as they'd kicked out the Servants of the Whills. The walls were too thick to break, but the lock was old.</p><p>He thought about the lock, thought about the tumblers inside it. "I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me." The words were true, and he knew them deep inside himself. He was part of the Force. The Force moved within him. "I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me."</p><p>"Praying won't get us out of here," Baze said in a kind voice. Chirrut ignored him, thinking about the old metal, and the slide of the teeth inside the lock, and the soothing presence of the Force inside his mind as he repeated the words.</p><p>All was as the Force willed, whether they lived or died or went to a prison camp or starved inside this forgotten cell. The Force did as it chose.</p><p>He heard the tiny clicks.</p><p>Chirrut opened the cell door. "Coming?" he asked with a grin.</p><p>"They must have forgotten to lock it."</p><p>"They did not."</p><p>They hurried from the cell, slipped easily past the stormtrooper, and lost themselves in the maze of streets until they were far away. The same crime that had gotten them into trouble was now their saving grace. No scandocs, no means of tracing back who they'd been. The stormtrooper who had put them into the cell would be demoted for forgetting to lock the door. It felt like a good day.</p>
<hr/><p>The Holy Quarter always drew in the lonely and the wretched, seekers of hope in their own hopelessness. Chirrut tried not to think about how that hopelessness pervaded even his fellow Servants of the Whills as the days went by and the Imperial hold grew stronger.</p><p>Las Taybit and a Disciple named Sora had been executed by the stormtroopers for trying to get into the Temple. Laydo and three others had been arrested and had not been heard from in weeks. The elders petitioned the occupying force for news of their friends, but no word was given. Some had started talking about leaving NiJedha.</p><p>"We could fight them," Baze said at night, pressed against him and too tense to sleep.</p><p>"And we would die gloriously and pointlessly," Chirrut said. "The Force has other plans. We must wait to discover what those plans are." Of course it could be that the Force had no intention of allowing them to live long enough to see the full reach of its plan. All the Jedi had died without ever learning why the Force had allowed it.</p><p>They were feeding hungry pilgrims when Chirrut smelled it. "There's a fire." </p><p>"I see the smoke."</p><p>There were no sirens alerting the citizens to the danger, or calling for help. Chirrut pressed his ladle into the hand of the next pilgrim and Baze handed another the pot. They made their way quickly towards the trouble. Without aid, the fire could spread. People would get injured or worse. They were in the heart of the Holy Quarter, near the Temple of the Kyber, when Baze stopped him. The shudder in his hands was enough for Chirrut to know.</p><p>"How bad?" he asked dully.</p><p>"The dormitories. The library." His voice was tight. Later, he'd describe the colors of the flames as all the knowledge and wisdom of the Servants burnt to ash, and their home crumpled. He'd count out the number of 'troopers guarding the perimeter, allowing no one inside to stop the desecration or save even a single datapad. He'd even tell Chirrut that he didn't care, it was just a building, it didn't matter. In return, Chirrut pretended he didn't hear Baze weep.</p><p>The smell hung over the city for days, and it snuffed out the hopes of those who'd lived and worshiped in the Temple. In pairs and droves, they left. There were souls that needed ministering on other worlds. Jedha was a tomb. Within a few months, their crowded home was almost empty.</p><p>Tasa hugged them both with a fierce love before boarding one of the last transports that allowed free passage. "You should come with me, both of you."</p><p>"Jedha is our home," Chirrut said. "This is where we belong." The Force had brought him here, had led him to be raised in the Temple of the Kyber, not back on Coruscant in the Jedi Temple. He had been left alive when the Jedi had been killed. The Force had a purpose for him, and he understood he would find that purpose here among these people.</p><p>Baze didn't say much as he hugged her goodbye. His manner had been clouded and angered by the fire and by all their losses. But he was staying, too.</p>
<hr/><p>The city was holy. The people were holy. As they fled in the U-Wing, as Baze told him of the extent of the destruction, unimaginable as it was, Chirrut told himself the Force must have been so tired of the continued sacrilege against the Holy City that it chose instead to welcome the people and the spirit of NiJedha into itself.</p><p>The thought was a cold comfort.</p>
<hr/><p>And now it was after.</p><p>Jedha had been a stark, dusty plateau of holiness and sullen poverty. Alderaan had been wet and green and beautiful, or so everyone had told him. The Empire had wiped them both away from the galaxy, along with their people. But always, some survived. The young princess would sweep together the refugees of her people. Other Jedhans had fled the moon before Chirrut, Baze, and Bodhi. Tasa was out there, and Kaya Gimm and Denic, and so many refugees who would need succor and kindness now that their homeworld was lost. This moon was lush and humid, good for healing although they could not stay. The Empire knew they were here now. Even as Cassian slept in his bacta tank, and Jyn was confined to bed to heal her wounds, the Rebellion must flee this place.</p><p>He felt Baze come up behind him. "You are supposed to be resting."</p><p>"So are you." A warm hand, its attached arm heavy in bactaplast, rested on his shoulder. Chirrut placed his own burnt and bandaged hand atop it. Even covered, he felt the movement of the Force between them. His senses had become keenly aware of the Force since Scarif, beyond anything he'd known before. Unlocking, the Jedi had called it when they'd tested him, and had permitted him to stay to discover whatever the Force had in mind for his destiny.</p><p>"You know me. I don't sleep as late as you do."</p><p>"You're thinking about home."</p><p>"I thought I was supposed to be the Jedi."</p><p>Baze made a noise in his throat. "They've got Jedi here. Turns out you're not so special." He could hear the teasing amusement under the words, and in the warmth of his hand even in the good heat of the jungle's day. "Perhaps they can teach you something."</p><p>"Or perhaps we are meant to learn from each other." Away in the growth, Chirrut heard the rustling of small animals, and the cries of the birds as they called to one another from across long distances, searching for a mate. He'd never had to look so far. Baze had been with him his entire life. "I want to go searching for others. Kaya and Denic, Tasa and Aisha. They are our friends. They're out there, and the Empire isn't going to be kind. We can help."</p><p>"I thought the Force wanted us to help this Rebellion." Under these words he heard the other question, about the fast friends they made here, and walked into death with, and somehow walked out again still hand in hand.</p><p>Chirrut wasn't the only one who'd been changed by what had happened. Baze walked this old temple's halls with a more measured, calm step than Chirrut had seen in years. He spoke of the Force as though he believed again after his long, sorrowful drought of faith.</p><p>"We'll stay for a while. But you're no ground soldier and I'm certainly no pilot. We serve the Force. We do as the Force wills. I believe the Force intended for me to be at Scarif, and it kept us both alive after our tasks were done for a reason. I don't believe that reason is to fight this war. Others are warriors. Guardians protect, and we were the last Guardians." The words didn't make much sense, not even in his own ears. Baze greeted them with a soft grunt of acceptance.</p><p>"They'll be hard to find."</p><p>"We have time. The Force will give us the time to look." He believed that to his core. "Unless you're afraid of the search?"</p><p>He expected another grunt, or a loud protest. Baze Malbus was many things, but a coward was not one of them, and his pride hated any pricks that he might be.</p><p>"I fear nothing," said Baze. "For all is as the Force wills it."</p>
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